


Wedding Crashers

by musicofthespheres



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Human AU, but Bulma knows it, heads up Vegeta is a sleaze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 11:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15639396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthespheres/pseuds/musicofthespheres
Summary: Vegeta scans the crowd for his next score when he spotsher. Things are going to go a little differently this time, aren't they?





	Wedding Crashers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maiika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiika/gifts).



> Based on a prompt given in the [Vegebulocracy Discord](https://discord.gg/qzhwwTy) by [Maiika](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiika).

Vegeta pulls at his collar. This reception is one of the warmer ones he’d been to this summer. Who has time to worry about proper ventilation when you have two hundred mason jars to fill with dollar-store baubles, anyway? (He’s still going to take one as a souvenir. That’s four weddings and counting _this month_ he’s managed to crash. He’s gotta have something to show for it.)

He takes another sip of the box red wine he’s been served at the open bar, a Cabernet Sauvignon that would have been better left on the shelf at the liquor store, as he scans the crowd for a suitable target. As he adjusts his diamond and platinum cufflinks, he spots her across the dance floor. She’s standing next to a pretty blonde with a stone-cold face. 

Blue hair, drink in hand, and bling the size of Texas: she’s somebody he’d like to get to know. It doesn’t matter that she’s not alone, or visibly intoxicated (which would have made this a lot easier), he’s going to have her tonight. 

He expertly navigates through the mass of writhing bodies, keeping her in sight as he twists and ducks his way past the drunk wedding guests. When he’s close enough to see the pleasant flush on her cheeks, she turns right toward him and pins him where he stands with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen.

xoxox

Bulma knows the type. Charming, suave, impeccable taste. He’s not her usual cup of tea, but she can’t help but notice the way his tux, Dolce & Gabbana from the looks of it, accentuates the taut lines and muscles underneath. He’s got her in his sights and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the attention. She can feel her cheeks heating up and not just from the warmth of the room. 

He stops beside her and turns to face the party with her. “Bride or groom?” he asks, turning slightly toward her and helping himself to her personal space. His grin is as devilish as his demeanor, but it’s almost cute how smooth he thinks he’s being. 

“Groom,” Bulma lies and takes a sip of her wine. She lets her tongue dart out to catch a droplet off her lip, watching the crowd instead of him. He’s rapt. 

Bingo. 

“Me too,” he replies, perking up. “Maybe we’ve crossed paths before.” He reaches out to touch her arm in… an attempt at familiarity? The gesture seems sincere enough on the surface, but Bulma knows what he wants, and knows that he’s lying too. 

She will admit, it does electrify her. Self-consciously, she reaches up to brush her fingers across the necklace adorning her collarbone.

xoxox

Vegeta has to stop himself from gaping as her slender fingers caress her necklace and her pale, delicate skin. Does she realize how much she’s turning him on? She gives him a sly smile. Of course she knows. Vegeta gives her a not-so-subtle onceover as conspicuously adjusts the cufflinks, letting them glint in the rotating disco lights that splash across the hall. 

Her gaze is instantly drawn to them and Vegeta watches as her pupils dilate just a little more in the dim lighting. 

“I was going to ask if you’d like to dance, but maybe you’d like to go for a walk instead?” he asks, fanning himself with his hand. “Get some fresh air?” 

Her eyes snap from his wrists to his face and then to the drink in her hand. With a shrug, she puts it to her lips and downs the whole thing. In here, out there… the location doesn’t matter one bit. 

She lets him guide her by the arm, laughing inwardly at the promise in his eyes. The poor sod already thinks he’s scored, but she’s going to beat him at his own game. Once they’re outside, he leads her down a path lit by tiny lanterns. 

The reception grounds are huge. Behind the hall itself, a lake glimmers in the moonlight, and the path takes them right to it. It appears to wrap around the circumference, evidenced by little dots of light on the far shore. 

“Should we go for a swim?” he asks, his face now heavily shadowed as they move away from the building. 

“In our clothes? I can’t get this wet, it’s satin.” 

“Who said anything about clothes?” Vegeta smirks and begins loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. _Sweet, fucking relief._ The heat from the party that’s been trapped in his collar dissipates, and he starts on his cufflinks next. 

She’s still hesitant, crossing her arms over her middle. 

“You look like the adventurous type. Don’t tell me you’ve never been skinny-dipping before,” Vegeta taunts. He folds up his tux jacket and places it down on the edge of the trail closest to the water, then tugs the sleeves down his arm. A cool breeze rustles through the grass and cools his glistening skin. 

She watches him, undressing him with her eyes faster than he can undress himself. 

Yeah, he’s got her. Hook, line, and sinker.

xoxox

He’s standing in front of her wearing only his tux pants. The faint light from the reception hall’s open doors paints him in a warm glow, and in the shadows on his chest she can see the definition of his pectorals. It’s all she can do to stop herself from reaching out to touch, make sure he’s real. 

She’ll play along. 

Bulma pulls the shawl from around her arms and lets it fall to the ground next to his clothes. As she reaches behind to undo the hook holding the back of her dress across her shoulders, he steps forward. 

“Allow me.” His fingers brush aside the stray hairs that have pulled away from her updo, sending more sparks up and down her spine. With ease, he slips her dress down her shoulders--and by now he’s noticed that she’s not wearing her bra underneath, if the way he hums appreciatively is any indication. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” she teases him, turning to face him and undoing her necklace and placing it with her shawl. She notes the way his eyes follow it before snapping back to her.

He steps away, admiring the view from her front, instead. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

She pointedly raises an eyebrow and reaches down to pull her high-heeled shoes from her feet. “I’m sure you’re an absolute gentleman, or at least that’s what you tell all the ladies, right?” she grins at him to let him know she’s joking… but also that she’s definitely onto him. She waits for him to begin unbuttoning his pants before she makes her move.

xoxox

Vegeta likes forward women. Sure, his craft may revolve around seducing women and knowing how to spot their vulnerabilities, but it’s nice to take a break from that sometimes. Besides, these ones are a challenge in themselves. They know what to watch out for and one can't simply take what he wants.  
So when she marches up to him, dress halfway falling off her shoulders and high-heels in hand, he can’t help but get a little _excited_ about it. He barely has time to react before she grabs him by the back of the head and pulls him down into a kiss that’s all lust and fire and _teeth_. Damn, this girl knows what she wants. He’s going to score _and_ get lucky tonight. 

But they’re still in almost full view of the party. 

When they break apart, gasping and turned the fuck on, Vegeta puts his hands on her bare shoulders. “Let’s take this someplace quiet,” he murmurs, then traces his fingertips down her back and to the swell of her ass. 

“Afraid somebody will see you?” she replies, slipping her dress completely off to reveal she isn't wearing a damn thing underneath.

xoxox

Bulma takes a deep breath. If they’re caught, it’s not like anyone here knows her, anyway. Oh, the things she does for her craft. She hopes seeing her stark naked while shock him into agreeing--and it does. 

While he’s still half-clothed (and working to remedy that as quickly as possible), Bulma wades out into the cool water, stopping when it reaches her thighs. She turns back and catches a glimpse of his nude form before he dives into the water. 

They swim for ages. Bulma _has_ been skinny-dipping before (thank you very much), but only with her girlfriends. To be doing something like this with a stranger--albeit one who’s hot as hell--is a new experience. Life has been all about new experiences for her lately, so what’s one more? 

When they finally get out of the water, the party is still going strong. Bulma slicks off as much water as she can using her hands and uses her shawl to blot up the rest. She can feel his eyes on her, watching every fluid motion with increasing appreciation. If she’s trying new things…  
She whips around, determined. “Let’s get a motel room.”

xoxox

It’s so easy, he doesn’t even have to ask. Fuck, he’ll even pay for the room--it’ll be worth it. She takes his hand, leads him away from the grounds. 

“I know a little place a fifteen minute walk from here,” she says. Her dress isn’t even all the way zipped up, and she carries her heels in her free hand. This night couldn’t be going better if he’d planned out all the minutiae. 

They arrive later than planned--he’s not ashamed to admit the little detour they took through the woods, his back against an anonymous tree and this beautiful creature on her knees, sullying her beautiful satin gown as she relieves some of the pressure that’s been building for the last hour and a half. As he pays, she runs her nails down his arm and twirls it around the pulse point on his wrist. It takes every iota of his will power not to take her for everything she’s got right here in the lobby. 

As they walk through the door, she pulls the pins from her hair and flowing blue tresses cascade down her back. She eyes him slyly, pushes him down on the bed. “Wait here,” she commands, “I’m going to take a shower.” 

When she returns, he’s wearing nothing but his boxers. He palms himself through the fabric, eyeing her up and down for what feels like the millionth time that evening (he’d be a liar if he said she wasn’t easy on the eyes, but he’d be remiss not to mention that she’s an absolute fucking _bombshell_ ). 

“Let’s try a little something,” she says, pulling the sash from her dress and holding it out. 

She intends to blindfold him.

xoxox

Bulma’s heart pounds so hard in her chest she’s certain he’s going to hear--but he’s not thinking clearly, mind still foggy with lust from part _one_ of her plan. Part two is where the real fun begins. 

He lays on his back, shoulders propped up by the cheap motel pillows, and grins. Somehow, Bulma finds him even more attractive like this. She can only imagine his lascivious gaze as he anticipates what he thinks is going to be a successful end to his evening. 

And at first, it’ll appear to be. 

Bulma climbs on top and straddles him, letting the dampness between her thighs drag across him. She shivers with delight, feeling his girth beneath his boxers. And he’s not even fully hard yet, still recovering from the little taste-test from earlier. 

His hands come to rest on her thighs, guiding her through a slow, steady rhythm as he gradually grows to his full rigidity. Her motions pull the band down his waist, revealing an expanse of skin that spreads deliciously from his hip bones downward: a tease. 

Bulma shuffles backward and dips low to suck on the skin, nipping and sucking to leave a little mark--a memento to remind him of their ephemeral time together. As his hips buck up toward her mouth, she knows it’s time. 

Before she has time to second-guess, she pulls his boxers completely off and throws them somewhere on the floor. The temperature of the lake hadn’t done him justice: his cock is massive, and she’s about to feel every inch of it inside her.

xoxox

Vegeta lays panting and blindfolded, practically immobilized. She slips off of him and he groans at the loss of her wet heat and the last throes of her orgasm--the spasms that milk him for everything he’s worth. He throws his arm over his face and relishes the post-coital bliss. 

He can vaguely hear her pacing around the room, there’s the clack and clang and _ting_ of metal. Her necklace. His eyes fly open, still blocked by the blindfold. How could he have let _this_ get in the way of his goal? Now he’d have to find an excuse to make her stay, let her guard down… 

He pulls the strip of fabric off his head as he hears the motel door open and close. “Wait, don’t leave yet-!” he calls in vain. He tries to run after her before remembering his unclothed state, shuffles his pants on as quickly as possible, but by the time he gets outside she’s disappeared into the night. _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He flops backward onto the bed and puts his hands over his face, dragging them down and staring at the ceiling in defeat. 

The clock on the nightstand says that it’s only 11:30. If he’s lucky, he can get back to the party, find another target, seduce them and steal their jewelry and _not_ get distracted with sex this time… yeah. That’s what he’ll do. 

Vegeta buttons up his pants, ties his bowtie around his neck… but when he goes to do up his cuffs, his heart drops. He searches everywhere in the room: under the bed, in the sheets, on the ground just outside, but to no avail. 

The bitch stole his fucking cufflinks.

**Author's Note:**

> And so the thief gets thieved. 
> 
> \---
> 
> [Tumblr](http://jadefyre.tumblr.com)   
>  [Twitter](http://twitter.com/jadefyre)


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